


The Nusquam Horror

by Sturzkampf



Category: Sombulus (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-13 01:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sturzkampf/pseuds/Sturzkampf
Summary: On the myriad world of Nusquam, The Story has begun and Great Cndulhu has risen from the depths to rule once more. Fortunately, A Hero has arrived to Save the World!





	1. The Abomination

**Author's Note:**

> _Pre-canon. Before the story starts, Astyr has already taken Rana and Sydney to over twenty worlds. Here is the story of what happened when they visited the world of Nusquam._

Sydney Treuno was falling out of the sky. She’d been doing it a lot lately. She wasn’t too far up this time, no more than forty feet, but she was falling towards a large building with many domes and spires, each with an unnecessary number of metal spikes pointing upwards, all eager to skewer her. Of course, falling from a height means nothing to a Paladin of Kansen, but a little extra altitude would have been useful to give her more time to pick a spot to land. As it was she had to bend her body in mid-air to grab one of the spikes on the nearest tower and use it to convert her downward momentum to a horizontal rotation. From there she selected the top of a minaret some thirty feet away, and with a couple of swings round to gather speed, she leapt to the top of its pointed roof, then sprang down onto a convenient high ledge. Having safely arrived in a new world, she took a moment to assess her situation. First, find her two travelling companions. Especially, find out what Astyr was up to, and stop him doing it.

Ah yes, the demonic Demshul Astyr, her captor and quarry. In the previous myriad world, he had been stealing the essence from a strange ancient device at the top of a tall building when they’d been surprised by the guards. Astyr had of course fled downstairs leaving her to deal with their assailants. She had been warding off their attacks, while trying to explain that she wasn’t the threat, that their world was in grave peril and that she needed their help to catch Astyr. She could have simply escaped and let the guards slaughter the demon, but Rana Tashovik, her fellow abductee, was in the way, and she couldn’t let them hurt her. Then she had felt the familiar tug of the Jump and she been pulled to this new myriad world. She had been at the top of the building and Astyr would have been at the bottom, so she’d emerged several storeys above him, plus a little extra for luck apparently. The chaotic evil magic of the Demshul was malicious and uncontrolled that way.

That meant Rana and Astyr must be at ground level. The quickest way down would be to jump from tower to tower on the outside of the building. The other option was to get inside and walk down the stairs. She might meet someone in the building and alert them to the Terrible Evil that had just arrived on their world. The problem was that suddenly appearing unannounced in the bedroom of someone else’s house usually resulted in the cry of ‘Guards! Guards!’ and all sorts of unnecessary complications. In the end, she decided to go the easy way and leapt from the high ledge. It would be the swiftest way to make sure Rana was safe and to foil Astyr’s Evil Plan, whatever it was, before he could put it into operation. 

\--------------------------*

 “Hello Astyr,” said a familiar voice. Astyr slowly opened his eyes and shook his head. He’d hit something very solid on landing. It had gone ‘clang’ and his head was still ringing.  He found himself looking at a 20-foot-tall sheet of brass, with a huge, ominous rune like a claw inscribed on it, which sealed the entrance to an enormous ornate building. He was lying in front of it. That would explain the clang. He’d had worse landings.

“Um… If you’re feeling better, then… er… could you possibly please help me down?” asked the voice. It sounded a little worried. As far as he could tell it was coming from somewhere above his head. He got to his feet slowly and looked up. The sealed entrance was surrounded by an ornate portico, decorated with carvings of indecorous nymphs and shepherds.  A pair of familiar wide eyes, topped by a mass of spiky hair, were peering over the edge of the roof, looking down at him.

“Hello,” he grinned, “What are you doing up there?”

“Holding on with my lips,” replied Rana Tashovik. “It’s a very narrow ledge and it’s a long way down, so, you know, if you could…”

“No problem!” Astyr waved his hand. A whirlwind sprang into life, lifted Rana from her high perch and gently brought her down to the ground. She’d been transported like this so many times now, she had become quite used to it. She straightened her clothing, patted her hair back into shape, and, now she was no longer distracted, looked around her. 

The enormous building was situated on the summit of a high hill. Beneath them stretched a wide valley, filled with deciduous trees in full leaf and lit by evening sunlight. In a bend of the river wandering along the valley floor sat a small town, little more than a village, with black and white half-timbered thatched houses, wide streets filled with flowers, and, in the centre, several large stone buildings glowing like gold in the sun. Beyond, rich fields speckled with trees and gilded by barley stretched away to the horizon, where a glimpse of azure sea peeked through a gap in the high hills.

“What a dump,” grumbled Astyr.

“Oh, you think so?” replied Rana. “I think it looks charming.”

“Yeah, great. Charming. Charming doesn’t get us any Dwells. A low-tech world, with no industry or high value items or craftsmanship. I bet they don’t even have a Wingbucks. Whatever was Ten-Ten thinking, sending us here?”

“Where is here exactly?” Astyr rewove the notebook his brother had given him and scowled through the pages of neat, tiny handwriting.

“This is, apparently, the world of Nusquam. There’s supposed to be a massive source of Dwells here, but looking at that place, they’re probably still trying to invent the spoon. Where can all this essence be? Can you see anything worth harvesting?”

The pair thought about the problem for a minute or two, scanning the peaceful rural scene, looking for anything of value. Then, very slowly, they both turned around and looked at the huge building behind them.

“Rana,” asked Astyr, “do you think you could get us inside please?”

\-----------------------------*

It took longer for Sydney to climb down than she had anticipated. Even for a Ballista Paladin, there was no easy route to the ground. Too often she descended into a vertical dead-end rather than reaching the outside wall, and had to climb up again and find a different route.

She found herself wondering about the building’s structure. Yes, there were lots of turrets and spires and buttresses, as you might expect to find on a palace or a castle, but to her professional eye, the whole thing was completely indefensible. All the fields of fire were wrong. Then she noticed that there were no fields of fire. The building had no battlements, no balconies, no windows, not even any arrow slits. She hadn’t seen any guards. Even if she had wanted to take the hard way down inside it would not have been possible; there were no entrances to the building at all. She realised that this was not a castle or a palace, designed to protect the people who lived within from their enemies outside. It was a prison, and its purpose was to keep someone – or something – inside.

\------------------------------*

The brass door opened slowly, not on hinges, but vertically upwards into the fabric of the building. The bottom of the door slotted into a four-foot-deep trench that kept the great sheet of metal locked in place when closed. Along the bottom of the door where huge metal teeth that fitted into holes on the floor of the trench. They made the entrance look like the maw of some great mechanical ravening monster, opening to consume foolish intruders. Astyr was encouraged. This was proper engineering with plenty of energy somewhere to power it, and that meant lots of Dwells. He had considered simply harvesting the door, but frankly it was only completely dreary brass, so not many Dwells, despite the massive amounts of material; more trouble than it was worth. Although it was possible to harvest mundane, boring items like rocks and sheet metal to obtain as much essence as a Demshul could ever desire, such low-grade resources required a lot of time and lot of effort to accumulate any worthwhile wealth, and Astyr was not blessed with either patience or a propensity for hard work. He much preferred to travel the myriad worlds and harvest his essence from high quality sources that required no exertion whatsoever for a quick reward. Anyway, it took him to such interesting places and he met so many interesting people, even if most of them did try to kill him.

Rana stepped away from the portal, looking a little embarrassed. “Sorry it took so long to get the door open.”

“Difficult lock?”

“No, but the door didn’t want to open. It was being awkward. It says it’s not allowed to and it took ages to persuade it. Sorry”

“Don’t worry about it. You did a fine job and its open now. Let’s see what’s in there.”

Together, they walked into the building, but ten feet in front of them they saw, not an entrance hall, but a blank immaterial wall, a shimmering haze of many colours. Rana looked at it with a worried frown.

“I’m… I’m not sure that I can talk to this one.”

“Ha! Jackpot!” exclaimed Astyr. “Some kind of force barrier. There’s an entire armful of essence here. Stand back!” He reached out his hand, his palm facing outwards. Light flared from his palm and the wall flowed slowly towards him, like treacle, as though reluctant to come, but unable to resist the call. As it neared his hand it transformed into glowing streamers with runes written upon them, which wrapped themselves around Astyr’s arm like a bandage. None too soon either, his arms were almost bare – he was almost out of Dwells again.

Astyr was so engaged with harvesting the rich pickings of the glowing wall that he quite failed to notice what was beyond until the last of the essence was safe around his arm. Then he saw the amazed, incredulous expression on Rana’s face as she slowly walked forward across the threshold into the heart of the great building. Although he was a seasoned traveller through the myriad worlds and liked to project an image of ‘been-there-done-that’ even his insouciant façade almost wavered.

He was standing on a sandy beach; the shore of a lake. The surface of the water was covered in thick mist, so it was impossible to tell how far it stretched, but overhead brilliant unwinking stars shone in a clear night sky and a bright full moon looked down upon them. It was bitterly cold and their breath hung in clouds before their faces.

 “Astyr,” asked Rana, “should this be indoors?” Astyr looked behind him. Through the open doorway he could see the sunlight shining on the boring hills and houses. He turned back. There was the impossible landscape and the clear starlit sky.

“That moon is too large,” said Rana. “And the patterns on it are all wrong. And the stars aren’t right.” Astyr didn’t pay much attention to such things, but now he thought of it, on all the myriad worlds he visited, the constellations in the night sky (at least the only two he recognised) were always there and the moon always looked the same. Now, he had to admit he couldn’t see ‘The Angry Rabbit’ or ‘The Cosmic Bowtie’ anywhere, and the Man in the Moon was screaming in horror.

“Astyr, I think perhaps we should leave. Right now. I think we might have crossed into another dimension.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve been doing that ever since you started travelling with me.”

“No, I mean this is _another_ another dimension. Not just another one, but a completely different one. Let’s go. I think it would be better if this place was sealed up again.”

“Nonsense. We’ve only just arrived. We’ll have a look round a bit at least. There must be enough essence in this place to make a complete sweater!”

Then they heard a noise far out in the lake. A splashing, getting louder. Something in the water was coming towards them. Astyr took a step backwards and wondered why there is never a Paladin of Kansen around to act as ablative point man when you need one. A shape, bigger than a bear, loomed out of the mist, wading through the shallow water.

Rana yelped when its form became clearer. Its anatomy did not conform to any sane biology that she had ever seen. It didn’t conform to any insane biology either. Even if the intelligent bees were wearing tutus, at least the bees looked like bees and the tutus were still tutus. In this case, she couldn’t say what the creature was at all. It had claws and eyes and tentacles and maws full of sharp pointy teeth, but not arranged in any logical sequence, as though it had been assembled from spare parts by someone who had no idea how they were supposed to fit together and had been too lazy to read the instructions. Worse, the creature seemed to be arranging itself as it advanced, growing and retracting limbs as if unable to make up its mind what it actually looked like. She had the sudden insane vision of some truly terrible abomination trapped inside a flexible rubber sack, that was thrusting itself into the rubber to extrude different appendages as it decided how exactly it was going to rend the inruders apart.

Astyr strode forward confidently. “Excellent. This thing must be dripping with Dwells.” He held out his hand to bring in the harvest, but instead of the creature unweaving into the streamers of essence, the stored Dwells around his arm were whipped away and sucked into one of the creatures many gaping mouths. He looked at his bare arm in disbelief “Hey, that’s cheating,” he complained. The creature added insult to injury by making a disgusting noise that could only be interpreted as a very loud belch. It reached the edge of the water and lumbered across the beach towards them. In full sight, it looked even more terrifying.

“Time to go,” Astyr decided. He gestured to call up his whirlwind to carry them both away. Nothing happened. He looked at his other arm. For a terrible moment, he thought that the monster must have stolen all his Dwells, but then he saw it was even worse. His remaining stored essence was wrapped lifeless and inactive around his other arm. He was powerless.

“Clear the Area!” he shouted.

“What?” Rana realised that she was talking to the Astyr’s rapidly retreating back.

“Run Away!” he called over his shoulder.

“Oh right. Why didn’t you say that?”

“My version sounds better!”

Rana felt icy cold fetid breath on the back of her neck. She picked up her skirts and followed Astyr as fast as she could. She was surprised how easily she caught him up. He was already puffing, badly out of breath. Of course, she realised, he didn’t do much running. They came back out through the door into the sunlight and kept going.

“Astyr!” called Rana. “You’re outside the threshold; in the normal world again. Your powers will work.”

“Wha…?” he gasped.

“Fly you fool!”

“Oh yeah, right.” Astyr gestured and summoned a whirlwind. Rana grabbed on to him and they were lifted into the air, safely away from the Abomination.

“Astyr!” cried Rana in a worried voice, “I think I forgot to lock the door!”

\---------------------*

Sydney had found her way down to the roof of the portico when saw Astyr run out of the building in panic, closely followed by Rana. She was amused to see the engineer rapidly overtake the demon. Clearly, they had upset someone (or something) already. Her duty as a Paladin of Kansen was clear; join in the chase to catch Astyr and stop whoever was chasing them from hurting Rana. She leapt from ledge, performed a somersault in mid-air with unconscious grace so that she would be facing the pursuer and made a perfect landing in front of the entrance. Inside she saw the impossible lake with the screaming moon and the monster, waiting at the threshold. Her hope that the pursuer would have been a real person who would help her capture Astyr was too much to ask. Now, it was up to her to save Rana. Drawing her weapons, a short sword for her right hand and a dagger for her left, she advanced and attacked. Some kind of arm with mouths and eyes in inappropriate places shot out towards her, but she dodged the clumsy attack with ease and slashed at the appendage, nearly severing it. The monster gave a terrible shriek, unlike anything that ever issued from a sane creature from a normal world and withdrew. She pressed home her advantage, slashing and stabbing at the abomination’s body. With a – whatever the noise it made was – the creature fled into the mist. She heard it splashing away through the water.

“Ha! Feel the Sacred Power of Madir, Demon Spawn!” she shouted after it. As if accepting her invitation, four more of the monsters shambled out of the lake. Determined to take the initiative, she sprang to the attack, hitting the first one in what was probably one of its eyes with her dagger and then using the disgusting rubbery body as a springboard to launch herself at the second. She gave it a vicious kick as she went past, that deformed it in most unpleasant ways with an unwholesome squelching, cracking sound, and then hit the third one at full tilt with both her blades, aiming close together. With all the strength of a trained Paladin, she pulled her blades apart sideways, leaving a terrible yard long slash in the creature’s skin. Sickly green ichor squirted from the wound into Sydney’s face, but a mouthful of eldritch slime is nothing to a Paladin of Kansen. She was already spinning to confront the fourth monster. She ducked under its attacks and then leaped high in the air to land on top of it it with the full force of her weight behind her two blades as she plunged them into the soft skin. The thing screeched in pain but before it could attack her she sprang back onto the beach, ready to confront her attackers in a second round of combat. The monsters had other ideas and were already slinking back into the mist-covered water from which they had emerged. Sydney allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction.

There was sound of wallowing, further out on the lake. Ripples, then small waves began to lap at her feet. From the mists of the lake rose a truly enormous monster that loomed above her. It was covered in appendages that for the sake of brevity we will call tentacles, each ending in a large polyp of mouths, eyes and suckers. Sydney looked up and up. She realised that the ‘monsters’ she had been fighting were merely the ‘hands’ of this single giant abomination. 

More and more of the creature’s ‘hands’ reached for her, some moving through the water, some from the appendages growing from the body of the monstrosity high above her. Sydney took the only possible course of action open to a Paladin of Kansen when confronted with a terrible giant abomination from eldritch dimensions that she could not possibly hope to defeat. She raised her blades above her head and leapt high into the air towards the monster, screaming defiance.

\-----------*

Astyr landed himself and Rana about half way down the hill, on a road that led to the town in the valley.

“What now?” asked Rana, looking back up the hill. “I don’t think it followed us very far.”

Unconcerned, Astyr shrugged and started off downhill. “We go into town, for what it’s worth. If nothing else we can get something to eat and it’ll be getting dark soon, so hopefully we can find a bed for the night. We’ll probably find Sydney down there too. Trust her to slink off to the nearest tavern as soon as there’s any trouble. And we can ask the townsfolk what’s going on.” They turned the corner and found that the townsfolk had come to meet them. They’d brought burning torches. And pitchforks.

\------------------*

Sydney hit the monster with the entire weight of her body and the momentum of her leap behind both her weapons. The blades sank in up to the guards; there wasn’t the resistance that she had been expecting. The very structure of thing felt wrong. Hanging onto the hilts, she allowed gravity to take her down the cold dead-white skin, gouging a long vertical gash as she did so. The Monster emitted another terrible scream and began to edge backwards, towards the expanse of the lake. Through the slashed skin, Sydney could see, not the usual anatomy of musculature, veins and internal organs, but strange, globular, tubular structures that moved and squirmed as though they were separate creatures, trying to get out of the unexpected light, like ants in a disturbed nest. The sight of abominations that mankind was not meant to know mean nothing to a Paladin of Kansen, but even so, she was glad she had not had a large breakfast that morning. She braced to leap away from the bulk of the monster, ready for another attack, but suddenly tentacles (at least tentacles were the nearest approximation) erupted from the smooth skin and wrapped themselves around her body, pinning her arms to her sides and forcing her to release her two precious blades. Being squeezed by an eldritch tentacle means nothing to a Paladin of Kansen. Then the great monster turned and dived back into the mist, beneath the surface of the lake. There was just enough time for her to take in a great lungful of air.

The freezing water struck Sydney like a blow, draining the heat from her body, but biting cold means nothing to a Paladin of Kansen. She exerted all her strength to free herself from the monstrous grip. The creature began to squeeze. Sydney could feel her ribcage flex under the pressure. Her lungs were about to burst. She desperately wanted to breathe out to relieve the pressure. ‘No, no, I need that air’ she told herself. A blister formed on the slimy body in front of her, swelling until it burst in a cloud of noxious fluid, revealing a newly-formed eye the size of her head that regarded her with malicious intent. The monster’s grip tightened. She lifted her legs and with the last vestiges of strength kicked the eye hard with both feet. The monster convulsed and suddenly Sydney was free. She pushed off against its bulk, propelling herself upwards, finding another foothold and pushing upwards again. With each leap, the surface came closer, but she could feel her strength ebbing away. Her air supply was gone; the piercing cold was paralysing her muscles. A powerful current sucked her downwards as the monster fled back to the depths. The surface of the water seemed so far away. The combination of a mouthful of eldritch slime, immersion in icy cold water and being squeezed by an enormous tentacle was something to a Paladin of Kansen after all. It would be so much easier to give in, to cease to struggle, to accept the inevitable. She breathed a prayer to Madir: _‘Strong Deliverer. Be though still my Strength and Shield’._ A surge of energy ran through her. Sustained by her faith, she clawed at the water to reach the air, so high above her… so far…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ms Verity Cunningham, the World's Greatest Hunter, for '[Clear the Area](http://www.widdershinscomic.com/wdshn/may-30th-2017/)'.


	2. The Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sydney's bad day is about to get much worse..._

“’ere, who’re you?!” demanded the largest member of the mob, pointing his pitchfork at Astyr’s chest. Astyr looked the man in the eye for a second, reached out his hand, palm outwards, and the pitchfork unwove into a streamer of essence. The man looked gratifyingly amazed, even if the ribbon of Dwells was not sufficient to pass once around Astyr’s wrist. The rest of the crowd all shuffled backwards, unsure whether to attack the invader _en masse_ or run away before they were all literally torn to ribbons. Astyr gave them a smug smile. He loved doing that. Before any more essence collection opportunities could arise, a tall man wearing a long robe like an embroidered teacher’s gown strode through the crowd. His elaborate staff and suitably grey beard gave him an impressive air of authority, only slightly spoiled by his large thick-framed bottle-lens glasses.

“Welcome to Nusquam!” he said to Astyr and Rana. “I am the Teller of Tales. You are a little late! We were starting to get worried.” He peered forward through his glasses with myopic benevolence.

 “Ah, yes, sorry about that,” replied Astyr, fighting down the temptation to transmute the man’s symbols of authority, just to upset him. “We were a little delayed. We sort of ran into a monster-thingy up at the big building on top of the hill.”

“Ah, the Door of the Temple is open and Great Cndulhu has been released, has she? Oh good!”

“What, you want that thing to be free?”

“Oh no, this is terrible, terrible. According to The Story, Great Cndulhu will arise again from the pit to consume everything on this world. ‘

 “So why did you say it was good?”

“Because The Story also says that The Hero will step forth to defeat Great Cndulhu and finally destroy her! And here you are, right on time!”

 “Ah,” said Rana, “actually we haven’t defeated this Cndulhu person yet. We more, sort of, er, ran away.”

 “Of course,” added Astyr quickly, “we _can_ go and fight the monster. But -um - right now?”

“Oh no, that wouldn’t be much of a Story now would it? The Story says that after the gate is opened and Great Cndulhu rises again, she will be challenged and not emerge from her lair until the sun has set and risen again.”

“That’s convenient.” Astyr did his best to hide his relief.

Rana was growing increasingly agitated as she listened.

“All the same, it would be good if we could go back and close the door, you know, just to be on the safe side.”

“The brass door is open as well as the gate? It is only there for decoration – it will prove no hindrance to Great Cndulhu once she finally emerges - but how it did come to be open?”

Rana, embarrassed, pressed her fingers together and looked down at her big steel-capped boots. “Um… that was me. I asked it nicely and it opened for me. I’m good with machinery.”

“Ah, you would be The Hero’s Sidekick. The one that comes up with the clever ideas and the useful gadgets that are always exactly what he needs to get him out of the particular tricky situation he finds himself in. The one that spouts some technobabble, pushes a few buttons and miraculously overcomes a seemingly impossible obstacle. Come. We’ll take you both to the Rat House in town where I will explain everything.”

“Rat House?” asked Astyr.

 “Oh, their ancestors must have spoken the ancient German language,” explained Rana. “The _Rathaus_ is a large building where the city council meet and public meetings are held.”

“That is what we use the building for,” agreed the Teller of Tales, “and it also serves as my home, where you will stay as my guests, but as far as I know we aren’t Germans. We do have a bit of a vermin problem though.”

“Ew.”

“Well… actually, there should be someone else with us,” said Rana. “Have you seen another young woman? Please can we go up the hill and check? And I think I should close the front door again.”

“Of course! It should be perfectly safe until the morning.”

Rana pulled a small metal device from the pocket of her coat. A propeller blade on top began to spin and the device hovered in the air.

“Hello Spinny. Please could you fly up to the top of the hill and see if you can see my friend Sydney anywhere.” The machine flew away towards the Temple.

 “Very impressive,” said the Teller of Tales. “Truly, you are a Girl with the Spark of Genius.”

Two minutes later the machine came back to Rana. She cocked her head to one side, as though listening to it talk. She looked worried by what she heard.

“Spinny says there’s no sign of Sydney anywhere. You haven’t seen her down in the town?” Everyone shook their heads.

“Don’t worry,” Astyr assured her. “She’s bound to turn up when it’s dinner time.”

“But she should have arrived somewhere near us – at the top of the hill. I hope she hasn’t been eaten by the Monster!” Rana ran up the hill towards the Temple in panic. The Teller of Tales strode after her. The villagers and Astyr followed, somewhat more reluctantly.  Rana reached the Temple, ran up the steps and through the still-open brass door to the shore of the cold lake. The mist had cleared enough to show the black surface of the water. Not a ripple disturbed the glassy surface. There was no sign of Great Cndulhu. There was no sign of a Paladin of Kansen either. Astyr and the Teller of Tales arrived, somewhat out of breath.

“SYDNEY!” cried Rana in despair. “SYDNEY!! WHERE ARE YOU?!!!”

There was a splash and a gasp from far out in the lake. Through the mists they saw Sydney break the water. The Paladin waved frantically, but they could see she was at the end of her strength. She tried to strike out towards the shore, but sank again with a gasp and a gurgle.

“ _SYDNEY!_ ” screamed Rana.

Astyr summoned a whirlwind at the point where the Paladin’s despairing hand reached out and with a spray of water pulled her up into the air. He spun her round a few times for dramatic effect and then brought her back to the shore.

Rana frowned, puzzled. “That shouldn’t have worked.”

Sydney lay coughing and spluttering at their feet, sobbing for that oh so precious, wonderful air, shivering with cold. Rana bent down to help her, all thoughts of inconsistencies driven from her mind by concern.

“Oh Sydney, you’re alive. We shouldn’t stay her. There’s a Monster in the water!”

“I know, it grabbed me with a tentacle and dragged me under but I… ach, blurgh…” She spluttered up some more water and eldritch slime. The Teller of Tales looked at her with interest.

“Ah and you would be The Female Companion. The pretty girl who always screams when she sees the monster.” He turned to Astyr. “I expect you need to rescue her a lot.”

“Obviously. But she _is_ very decorative. At least she’s managed to keep all her clothes on this time.” There is nothing like righteous fury to summon a Paladin’s last reserves of energy. Sydney staggered to her feet.

“Astyr... I...” she snarled, reaching for the demon’s throat. Before she could throttle him, her exhaustion finally overwhelmed her. Her hands only grasped weakly at his jacket and then she collapsed into his arms. As she lost consciousness she heard The Teller of Tales exclaim in delight.

“Aw, she’s fainted! It’s always so cute when they do that!”

\--------------------*

Sydney was woken by a bright light. She was lying on the hard stone floor of a windowless room, with walls, ceiling and floor made from featureless basalt blocks. A tall, shining Kanite was looking down on her, studying her, judging her. Sydney’s fatigue vanished in an instant, replaced by a sudden surge of hope and joy. She was saved! She leapt up, or rather leapt to her knees before her deliverer, her head bowed, her eyes closed, her right hand held vertically before her chest in the act of prayer.

“You have come to rescue me, thank Madir!”

The Kanite did not respond. Sydney risked opening one eye and looking up at him. He regarded her as though she were a cat that had brought home a dead mouse and deposited it on the expensive new carpet for his approval.

“And this is supposed to impress me?” he said. “How could a Paladin of Kansen have fallen so far from Grace to have forgotten her calling?”

“Forgotten? But I have been fighting! Fighting for Madir against the evil Demshul! Though a dozen worlds!”

“Fighting for Madir? Yet here you are, travelling with a Demshul, aiding him as he plunders the myriad worlds.”

“But I’ve been trying to stop him, trying to foil his Evil Plans! I am a Paladin of Kansen!”

The Kanite loomed over Sydney, seeming to grow – or was it her that was shrinking, diminishing?

“Where is your Sacred Armour, Paladin, where is your sacred sword? They were given to you as a mark of your service, as a mark of your dedication to Madir. And you have discarded them like so much detritus.”

He gestured and Sydney was pushed onto her back by an invisible force. The pressure on her chest made it difficult to breath.

“NO! It was the Demshul! He took them! He unwove them!  Stole them away as essence!”

“And yet, you permitted him to live?”

“NO! I’ve been fighting for Madir! Fighting him to the best of my ability!”

“Pathetic. He is a Demshul. It was your duty to kill him. You should have killed him, or died in the attempt.”

“THAT IS NOT FAIR! I HAVE FOUGHT AND FOUGHT AND FOUGHT AND I WILL KEEP FIGHTING!!”

“The time for recrimination and regrets is over Traitor! You have betrayed us, and I have no time for your pitiful little excuses! You are no longer a Paladin of Kansen! You are dismissed from the Order! You will remain imprisoned here for all eternity.” He reached out his hand and a blanket of glowing light wrapped around her body, pinning her to the ground.

“NO! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!!”

“This is where you cry and beg for mercy,” explained the Kanite, with a smug smirk.

“NO!!” screamed Sydney, summoning her strength to throw the blanket aside. “THIS IS WHERE I PUNCH YOUR SANCTIMONIOUS HEAD IN!!!” She leapt up towards the Kanite – and found herself confronted by a girl in a maid’s uniform. The girl took one look at the enraged Paladin, screamed, threw the laden tray she was carrying up in the air and fled. The contents of the tray descended around Sydney and smashed over the floor like very noisy and messy rain.

Sydney blinked and shook her head. She was standing in a small bedroom. Sunlight was streaming in through the diamond-pattered windows. The walls were whitewashed and there were oak beams on the ceiling. Right, right, she’d been dreaming. Was she still dreaming now? She suddenly became aware that her entire body was aching and she felt sick to the core of her stomach. Right, she’d been fighting a monster. She remembered the words of a wise man and decided she couldn’t be dreaming. Dreams didn’t hurt this much. She looked at the wreckage on the floor. It looked like the remains of a full tea pot, a rather nice china cup and saucer, some plates and – oh no! – some smashed cream cakes. She checked the room. Behind her was a large and comfortable bed, presumably where she’d been asleep in the grip of her nightmare.

There was the clatter of heavy footsteps running up a flight of wooden stairs from outside the door of the room, coming straight towards her. She tensed to meet the assault. Rana rushed in and gave the Paladin a big hug.

“Oh Sydney, you’re awake! I was so worried about you!”

“Agh!” gasped Sydney. “That which doesn’t kill us – ow! – makes us stronger! But it does hurt – ow! - quite a lot. Please could you – ah! – go easy on the ribs.”

“What? Oh sorry.” Rana let Sydney go. There were more footsteps on the stairs and in sauntered Astyr.

“Good Morning, sleepy-head! I was afraid you were going to lie in all day.”  Sydney hadn’t forgotten her nightmare.

“And what have you been doing you demon!” she snarled, shaking her fist. “I ought to smite you here and now before you rend this world apart!”

Astyr grinned, partly to show how little he cared for her threats, but mostly from relief that Sydney hadn’t suffered any permanent harm.

“You might want to put some clothes on before you get down to the serious smiting,” he said innocently.

“What?! Eep!!” Sydney looked down and realised she was wearing a nightgown. A very short nightgown. She pulled down the front as far as it could go and made a rapid tactical withdrawal behind the decency of the blankets on the bed.

“What have you done with my sacred armour of Kansen?!” she demanded.

“Oh, what with all that slime and water and stuff we had to burn it…”

“WHAT!”

“No. it’s all right,” said Rana, before the Paladin could find a suitable weapon. “It’s fine, honest. Your clothes were all yucky, so they took them away to be washed and cleaned. See, there they are on the chest of drawers.”

“Right, then first thing is for me to get dressed.”

“Fine by me, go right ahead,” grinned Astyr, making himself comfortable in a chair, with the air of someone about to enjoy a show. He was driven from the room by a well-aimed barrage of pillows and cushions.

\--------------------*

Once she had some privacy, Sydney donned the Sacred Armour of Kansen. In fact, the fine armour and uniform of the Paladins of Kansen that she had been wearing when she first encountered Astyr had been reduced by a process of attrition to a light padded sleeveless top that was usually worn under a cuirass, a skirt with a heraldic tabard, and a pair of leather greaves, but as far as she was concerned, she was still wearing the Sacred Garments of Kansen. Astyr had an annoying habit of transmuting any decent weapon she manged to acquire (usually when she was trying to hit him with it), so when she arrived on this world she had had no more than a short sword and small blade that she liked to think of as a dagger. Now, she had lost even those in the depths of that impossible cold lake.

Once she was properly armoured, Sydney should have been ready to Go Forth and Smite Evil, but the dream’s adrenaline was draining away. Despite her rest, she felt tired, more exhausted and battered than she had been since she started basic training back when she was 12 years old. There didn’t seem to be any broken bones, but everything ached, and her body was covered in bruises. She still felt nauseous from the ichor, or whatever it was that had been sprayed into her face. And then there was the dream. Physical hardship is nothing to a Paladin of Kansen, but that dream. Had it really been a dream? She had truly failed, hadn’t she? Despite all her fine words, she had allowed herself to be taken through more than a dozen worlds, but she hadn’t been strong enough to defeat one Evil Demshul or rescue Rana from his clutches. What use was she? Was it any wonder that the Kanites had turned their back on her? She sat dejected on the side of the bed, one grieve on and one grieve off, looking at the tabard that she wore at the front of her skirt that bore the holy symbol of Kansen, and wondered if she had the right to wear it any more.

“Knock, knock,” said a familiar voice at the door. “Are you decent?”

“Come in Astyr,” she replied.

Wearily, she pulled on her other grieve. Astyr and Rana walked into the room.

“Hey, you ready to come and meet the locals? They’re all dying to meet the Female Companion. Try not to scream if you see a monster.”

“Fine, I’ll be right there.” Sydney, didn’t look up.

Astyr looked at her in concern. “You okay?” He’d been expecting at least a glimmer of reaction from that.

“Just a moment.” Sydney carefully folded up the tabard and placed it in one of the drawers in the dresser. It wasn’t hers any more.

“Our host The Teller of Tales said you were a perfect example – suitably cute and helpless.”

“That’s nice.”

“The last time a man called you cute, you kicked him in the…”

“I suppose so.”

“The term he used was ‘Smokin’ Hot Babe’.”

“Did he? I don’t remember.”

Sydney stood up from the bed and walked towards the door, her head down, without making eye contact. Astyr and Rana shared a look of real concern.

The three travellers went downstairs to a large, wood-panelled room; the town’s council chamber. Expansive diamond-paned windows gave a magnificent view of the Temple on its hill, frowning down on the town. A long wooden table with chairs set around it stood in the middle of the room. There was gold on the table, a collection of small but beautifully made jewellery. It would have been a pleasant room, were it not for the constant scurrying behind the panelling and the occasional little pointy nose that peeped out from holes in the skirting board.   Portraits of previous Tellers of Tales adorned the walls, all of them in the ornate school master’s robes and the thick bottle-glasses that were their symbols of office. The current incumbent was waiting for them, all smiles.

“Ah! The Hero and his Companions, ready to do battle with Great Cndulhu,” he beamed. “Please, take a seat and we can discuss your plan of campaign.”

They all sat down, but Rana was the only one interested in what the Teller of Tales had to say. Astyr did not do ‘plans’ and anyway, his attention had been taken by all the gold on the table. Sydney was still in a dark place of her own devising. Now that she was no longer a Paladin of Kansen, she wondered if she even had any right to be at the table. She felt like a child, listening to grown-ups discussing things that were no concern of hers.

“Tell me, what style do you favour?” asked the Teller of Tales. “Tactical Assault? Heroic Freestyle? Cunning Plans?”

“Ah… er… perhaps you could start by telling us who this Great Cndulhu is, what she is and why she is trying to destroy you,” Rana asked.

“What? Oh, the back story! Of course! You see this Great Cndulhu is one the ancient gods. The Story tells that she arrived in a circle of light from the sky many generations ago. She was a small creature, but ravenous. She consumed everything she encountered and incorporated it into her body, and as she ate, so she grew and grew until she became enormous.”

“Yes, we saw. The monster was almost the size of a cow.”

“Bigger,” said Sydney, taking a brief interest in the conversation. “That was just one of its hands or feet. The whole thing was as big as a Church.”

Astyr decided that the sooner he moved on to the next of the myriad worlds on his list the better. Meanwhile the Teller of Tales resumed his Story.

“Oh yes. Nothing could stop Great Cndulhu. She moved across the land, destroying everything in her path. It seemed she was always attracted to our great cities, our most treasured artefacts and all fell before her; people, animals, buildings – everything. It seemed our civilisation was doomed!”

“So how did you defeat this terrible monster?”

“A bit of a cliché I’m afraid. People came from outside with great power and beneficence. Greater than mere mortals. The Story says that they soared aloft on wings.”

That got Sydney’s attention. “Wings! Wings covered in feathers, like an eagle’s?!”

“More like a chicken’s,” sneered Astyr. “Eagles’ feathers aren’t white.” Again, Sydney’s lack of reaction worried him.

“Oh no!” replied the Teller of Tales happily. “That wouldn’t be very believable would it? No, they were black bat wings, like the one The Hero has. That’s how we knew he was The Hero, obviously.”

“Oh, only the Demshul then.” Sydney felt foolish for butting into the conversation with such an idiotic statement. Of course, the Kanites would never have left the job half-finished.

“So how did these flying people save the world?” asked Rana.

“With mighty magics beyond our comprehension. They sealed Great Cndulhu inside the Temple on the hill, imprisoning her with Eldritch Power. As I said, it’s a bit too much _deus ex machina_ for my taste, but it is only the backstory after all. They did say that it was merely a temporary fix and that one day the seal would fail, but they promised that when this happened, someone would come to sort out Great Cndulhu once and for all.”

“Did these people have a name?”

“They called themselves the Queen’s Consulate.”

That only increased Astyr’s resolve to be on his way as quickly as possible. He did not want the Queen’s Consulate investigating any of his not-entirely-official essence harvesting and he definitely did not want them asking awkward questions about his family. Still, he reflected, knowing the Consulate, it would take them at least a year to arrange a clean-up crew for this obscure myriad world, assuming that they remembered to monitor it, or even that they still had a record that it existed.

“Is that rune on the door their symbol?” asked Rana.

“The rune? Oh no, we put that there. It’s from the ancient script of an old, much-diminished race. It was the last letter in their alphabet and came to represent the ending of, well, just about everything. In the end it acquired such negative connotations that they stopped using it. But it is still a symbol of power for all that. Adopted by those who want nothing – literally nothing. The complete and utter annihilation of everything. When Man _‘shall hunger, without hope, even for evil gods_ ’, as the poet so eloquently put it.” It seemed an appropriate symbol to describe Great Cndulhu.

“Thanks, I think. But what do you mean about The Story? It sounds as though you already know everything that is about to happen; as though it’s already been written down”

“Here on Nusquam we have discovered that the truth of all life is contained in Stories. All of reality can be described by a limited number of Stories composed of a limited number of Plots. In order to understand the apparent complexity of life, all you need to do is identify what The Story is and the role of everyone in that particular Story, and then you will know how they will behave and what will happen next, within the variations of the Plot of course. That is where I come in. The Teller of Tales’ role in society is to identify the Stories of which each person is part and then explain to them their roles in life, direct their actions within the limitations of their character and tell them the likely outcomes. Clearly, this is the Hero-slaying-the-monster story and you are the Heroes, composed of The Hero, The Sidekick and the Female Companion.”

“Yes, I will admit that I have always thought of myself as a bit of a hero,” admitted Astyr.

“No, not a hero. The Hero! With Capital Letters!”

Astyr noticed a particularly bold rat that had emerged a bit too far into the room. He reached out his hand and the creature unwove into a streamer of essence that wrapped around his arm. Not much, but it all counted. The Teller of Tales stopped to watch him in awe.

“Truly, you are a mighty wizard. You will be able to defeat Great Cndulhu without any problem. Astyr grinned the confident grin of a Hero who knows that no Monster in existence can stand against him, then suddenly remembered how in his first encounter it had been the Monster that had stripped the essence from him, and how he had been powerless to use the essence that had remained. Perhaps sensing his discomfort, Rana diverted the conversation into safer channels.

“Have you ever tried to get rid of your rat problem?”

“We did have an itinerant freelance exterminator come here once. He said that he could use proprietary sound modulation techniques to attract all the rats out of the town, so they would drown in the river. But we know that Story and how it ends, so we declined his services. Anyway, his prices were scandalous.”

There was a squeak and another small streamer of essence wrapped itself around Astyr’s arm. This was fun. He kept a close eye open for any more little twitchy noses appearing from the skirting board. Rana was more interested in the problem to hand.

“Why do you refer to this Cndulhu as she? I mean, looking at it – her – I couldn’t tell one way or another.”

“As a unique eldritch being, I think Great Cndulhu is probably an it”

“Then why…?”

“Oh, in these modern times we must encourage gender diversification in The Stories. We can’t go around with all the characters being male, can we? And Great Cndulhu acquires and consumes everything she can without concern for the cost or the consequences to others. There are certain similarities to my ex-wife.”

Astyr had already grown tired of rat hunting. Now that all the boring exposition was over, he turned his attention back to the golden jewellery that was scattered on the table.

 “What are they these little golden ornaments?” he asked the Teller of Tales, keeping his voice carefully disinterested and casual, with the skill of an experienced acquisitor.

“These? They are the highest expression of our artistic endeavours. Creating them has been a tradition for many generations, dating back to the time of the First Visitation by Great Cndulhu.”

Rana picked up one of the golden decorations and examined it with an eye magnifier.

“I didn’t notice at first, but these truly are excellent workmanship. Look Astyr, they are made from very fine gold wire that has been braided, then braided again to make a thicker thread and then that has been carefully coiled to make the patterns. It must have taken ages. And look! Each of these precious stones is sitting on top of a tiny piece of gold, carefully cut to the exact shape of the gem, so that the light is reflected back from the surface to make the gem sparkle. But one thing does puzzle me. What do they actually do?”

“Do? They don’t _do_ anything. They are ornaments. But The Story says that they will aid The Hero in his quest to defeat the Monster.”

“Really?” Astyr was suddenly very interested. If an enormous amount of time, effort and skill had gone into creating these trinkets, then they would be packed with essence; far more than you would expect from their mere physical structure. “Would you mind if I took one?”

“Help yourself! These have been created to aid The Hero in his fight against The Monster.”

Astyr picked up an ornate brooch and unwove it, the fine artistry and workmanship vanishing forever into essence. He was suitably impressed by the length of the streamer that wrapped itself around his forearm. Perhaps this trip wasn’t going to be such a waste of time as he had thought.

“These are perfect! Exactly what I need! Could I take them all?!”

“Of course!” The Teller of Tales was delighted. “And we have many more! The pinnacle of achievement over many generations. I can send for them at once, if you like.”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

The Teller of Tales left to spread word throughout the town that all the Heroic Art be brought to the Hero at the Rat House as soon as possible.

“Astyr,” asked Rana, “are you sure you should be doing this? You’re taking away all these people’s cultural heritage.”

“Nonsense,” Astyr laughed. “You heard the man. They made them all for _me_! I’m an Evil Demshul remember, stealing the essence from the myriad worlds!”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t seem right.” She looked to Sydney for moral support, but the Paladin was looking down at the table, lost in her own thoughts.

The Teller of Tales returned, with the first of the happy artisans, delighted that their life’s work would help The Hero defeat Great Cndulhu and Save the World. Rana and Sydney left Astyr in the Council Chamber, happily harvesting the essence of all the exquisite gold jewellery that the people of Nusquam had spent so long creating. As fast as he harvested, a line of enthusiastic towns folk brought him more.  

“Are you hungry?” Rana asked Sydney. “Only there’s a kitchen along the corridor we can use if you…”

“No, thank you,” replied Sydney, without interest. “I’m going back to my room. I need to… I need to pray to Madir.”

“Oh, right then.” Sydney turned her back, and slowly and painfully made her way back up the stairs, like an old and broken woman. Rana watched her go, a tight knot of worry in her stomach. Sydney was definitely acting out of character. There had to be something that she could do to help her.


	3. The Female Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There's nothing like cream cakes and smiting to resolve a crisis of faith._

Fortunately, Rana found everything that she needed in the kitchen; a kettle and teapot to make the tea, crockery and cutlery, and a box full of large and elaborate cream cakes, Nusquam’s culinary speciality. She put the kettle on to boil and set the teapot near the fire to warm. Someone had left a vase of flowers on the windowsill, so she used it to make a nice centrepiece to the table, and arranged the teacups and saucers, the china plates, the silver spoons and the pastry forks around it. Once the kettle had boiled she left the tea to brew and went up to Sydney’s room. The Paladin was kneeling before a lighted candle with her eyes closed and her right hand extended before her in prayer.

“Er… Sydney. Sorry to disturb you,” began Rana, “but I wondered if you’d like some tea? I made a pot.”

“No thank you Rana.”

“And there are cream cakes. They’re very good.”

“…No. No thank you.” This time, there was a little delay between question and refusal.

“Oh, all right then.” She noticed a little kaleidoscopic reflection of candle light around her friend’s eyes.

“Sydney, are you crying?”

“I do _not_ cry.”

“What about that time you were watching _Ascension Street_ in Tenge’s moving picture box, when Cecilia was in a coma and they were about to turn off her life support and they brought her little boy in to say goodbye and he started crying for his Mummy and the sound woke her up?”

Sydney made the noise a dog makes when it’s about to bite someone. Rana backed slowly out of the room. She went back to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of tea. It had cooled enough to drink when Sydney walked in. Rana passed her a cup of tea and a cream cake.

“Sydney, I know you’re hurting, but so am I. You’re not alone. What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? There’s nothing wrong? Why do you think there’s anything wrong?”

Rana took Sydney’s hands in hers and looked at her with puppy dog eyes. In the face of such an assault, even a Paladin of Kansen was helpless.

 “Oh Rana, it sounds silly, but I had a nightmare. I… think it was a nightmare. I was in a prison cell. A Kanite was there. He said that by allowing myself to be bound to a Demshul and not killing him or dying in the attempt I’d betrayed my order, betrayed my faith, betrayed Madir.”

“But you haven’t betrayed Madir? Have you?”

“I… I don’t know anymore. Not after that dream. Should I have done whatever it takes to stop Astyr and save you? Should I have killed myself rather than allow myself to be bound?”

“You’ve stopped him doing a lot of bad stuff! No-one can say you’ve let the Kanites down!”

“But was it a dream? Or did a Kanite really come to me and expel me from the Order of…”

“Oh that! You needn’t worry about that!” said a mocking voice from the doorway.

Sydney turned in annoyance. She hadn’t wanted to Astyr to know about her dream, or her doubts. The Demon sauntered into the room with his annoying, arrogant slouch.

“You see, that was just me!”

“WHAT!” Sydney leapt from her chair to confront him. He did the spooky arms.

“Yeah, I used evil Demshul mind manipulation magic to mess with your head and… AGGH!”

Sydney punched him so hard he was knocked across the room into the wall. A Paladin is not supposed to hit a man (even a Demshul) when he is down, so she followed up with a powerful kick to the ribs before he had the chance to slide down to the floor. Having made her point, she stormed out of the room. Two seconds later, she stormed back in, grabbed her cream cake, and then stormed out all over again. Rana was still sitting at the table, her hands to her mouth. Once Sydney had left she picked up the vase, carefully took out the flowers and laid them on the kitchen table, then walked across to where Astyr lay sprawled on the floor.

“Astyr why did you do that?”

“Heh heh. Did you see the look on her face?!” He gingerly probed his mouth. “Ow, I think she’s knocked one of my teeth out. That’ll take all week to regrow and… Bleugh!”

Rana tipped the vase-full of green slimy water over his head. Astyr flinched, waiting for a blow that didn’t come.

“That’s it? I thought you were at least going to hit me with the vase.”

“I was thinking about it, but it’s a nice vase and it would be a shame to break it.”

Astyr staggered onto a kitchen chair – the room was still spinning too much for him to safely stand up – poured himself some tea and helped himself to the largest cream cake. He felt that he had earned it.

“Now, you’re going to apologise to her,” Rana told him sternly.

“Apologise? No, it was only a joke. I’m sure she’ll have forgotten all about it by…”

“Astyr, this isn’t _that_ nice a vase.”

She left the room, and a few minutes later came back with Sydney. The Paladin had fitted her tabard back to the skirt of the Holy Armour of Kansen. She did not look pleased.

 “Are you still sulking er… upset by that dream stuff,” Astyr asked nervously, aware that Sydney was between him and the door.

If frowns could kill, his dismembered body would have been scattered across the floor.

“Look, I’d like to say that…er… it wasn’t really my fault…” Rana slapped the vase into her palm in a meaningful manner. “Right, so yes it _was_ my fault and I’m sorry. I’m an irresponsible demonic Demshul monster, and I don’t know better. But honestly, I didn’t mean to hurt you at all. It’s only a joke and no matter what I am it wasn’t meant to upset you like that.”

Sydney scowled back, weighing the different ways that she might kill him without a proper edged weapon. Rendering him unconscious and then throwing him from the window seemed the best bet, but there was no guarantee that the fall would kill him.

“Now that Astyr’s apologised, could we all be friends again please,” said Rana. “We need to work together if we’re going to defeat this Cndulhu person.” That brought Sydney back to the problem in hand. Personal revenge could wait until after she had Saved the World. She took a deep breath and forced her anger to subside, storing it safely away in the back cupboard of her mind, where it could fester until she needed it again. She and Rana sat back down at the table.

 “So, what’s our plan for defeating the Monster?” she asked. Seeing that the imminent threat of violence had passed, Astyr relaxed and stifled an affected yawn.

“Plan? You know I don’t do plans. Plans are boring.”

“Try. What are we going to do?”

“Sigh. Look, it’s very simple. I finish harvesting all the essence from their fancy baubles. Then we all announce we are going into the Temple to fight the Monster and close the big brass door behind us. Then, when we are out of sight, we jump out of this dive to the next of the myriad worlds I’m supposed to visit.”

“How is that going to save these people?”

“Hm? Don’t suppose it will.”

“WHAT! We are just going to leave them?!”

“Er, yes?”

“But this World will be destroyed!”

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty more. The clue is in the name. ‘Myriad’, see? It means ‘a lot’.”

“That’s not the point!”

“I’m not fighting a…er… whatever that thing is. There’s no way that I _can_ fight that thing. There’s no way _you_ can fight that thing. You nearly died the first time. As soon as I’ve collected all my Dwells, I’m out of here. What else can we do?!”

Rana frowned. Did Astyr know more about Great Cndulhu than he had admitted? Sydney didn’t give her a chance to follow that line of enquiry.

“I will stride boldly back into the Temple and defeat the Monster!”

“What, on your own?” gasped Rana, horrified.

“No! Madir will be with me!”

“I’m sure he will give you plenty of encouragement from the side lines and a nice pat on the head – good dog!”

Rana listened to the exchange, on the verge of tears.

“See, now you’re upsetting Rana. Look Sydney I know you mean well, but I can’t allow you to get yourself killed for nothing.”

“And how will you stop me?”

“Easy I’ll jump out and you will come along with me. You’re bound, remember? There’s absolutely nothing you can do about it! Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I hear the next batch of Dwells arriving, and some of us have work to do.”

He turned and sauntered out of the door, still a trifle unsteady on his feet.

Sydney and Rana finished their tea and cream cakes. Especially the cream cakes. Rana was relieved that Sydney was back to normal, but she was still as worried as ever.

“What are we going to do Sydney?”

“We have to stay and defeat the Monster before it destroys this World. We can’t allow a world that makes cream cakes as good as this to perish.”

“But Astyr is leaving. When he goes we will leave too. We have no choice.”

“Then I’ll have to find a way to stop him until I’ve destroyed the Monster.”

“But… you can defeat it – er – her. Can’t you?”

“Nothing is too powerful for a Paladin of Kansen!”

“If you get killed, it won’t make any difference. Great Cndulhu will still destroy this world, only you’ll be dead. Please, come away with us. Safe yourself.”

“What happens to me won’t matter. I am safe in the protection of Madir and he will judge me on my actions. A Paladin of Kansen cannot stand aside.”

“But… Cndulhu will kill you.”

“What better way to die than facing fearful odds for the protection of the innocent?”

“Um… peacefully in your bed, aged 104, surrounded by your children, grandchildren and great grandchildren?”

“What value will my life have if I walk away and leave the innocent to die?”

“But I don’t want you to die.”

“In your memory I will remain. Honour Madir and follow the true path of righteousness and I will not have died in vain. No-one, Kanite or Demshul, will be able to say that I have not done my duty. You save yourself.”

“No!” Rana took Syndney’s hands in hers, her eyes shining in excitement. “I’ll stand by you! Together we’ll defeat this monster! We’ll find a way! We’ll show them! We’ll show them all!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

For some reason, Rana’s happy enthusiastic laughter sent a shiver of fear down Sydney’s spine.

There was a knock and The Teller of Tales peered myopically around the door.

“Ah, not interrupting anything am I?”

Rana and Sydney very quickly let go of each other’s hands. “No!” they both said together.

“Pity. Anyway, you’ll be pleased to know that The Hero is busy accumulating all our Heroic Art to help defeat The Monster. I was wondering if there was anything you two ladies will require? Perhaps some tools or a workshop for the Sidekick?”

“Don’t trust that evil Demshul!” Sydney shouted, standing up to confront him. “He’s robbing you of your treasure and then he will abandon you to your fate!”

“Ah, the old ‘ _Unscrupulous Hero_ ’ trope. That one is always a favourite. Don’t worry, be sure that he will do the right thing in the end and become a ‘ _Knight in Sour Armour_ ’. They always do, you know.”

“NO, YOU FOOL! He is a demon! You must stop him now, before your world is destroyed!”

 “And of course, you are secretly in love with him, although you know he will always be unobtainable.”

“WHAT! HE IS AN ABOMINATION WHO IS HOLDING ME AGAINST MY WILL! HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY THINK THAT…!”

The Teller of Tales held up his hand to forestall the rant.

“Ah of course. Say no more. But I know The Story. Fear not. Your secret is safe with me.”

Fortunately for him, Paladins of Kansen take a solemn oath never to attack unarmed non-combatants, but it was a close-run thing. Sydney controlled her anger and settled for finger pointing and her best frown.

“I am a Paladin of Kansen! _I_ am the one who will stop this Great Cndulhu for you!”

“Of course you will dear. You should be suitably equipped to assist the Hero when he defeats Great Cndulhu. We have everything ready for you. Follow me!”

“The Sacred Armour of Kansen and my Faith are all that I need!” 

Nevertheless, Sydney was intrigued to see what the locals were offering. If they had fought this Monster before, they might have armour or weapons particularly effective against it. The Armour of Faith was all very well, but Sydney had also been taught never to turn down anything that would help the dice of chance roll in favour of Righteousness. It also occurred to her that her unarmed combat skills alone might not be enough to defeat a gigantic eldritch horror. A weapon of some kind would probably be useful. The Teller of Tales rubbed his hands together in anticipation and led them down the corridor and through a door marked ‘Costumes’.

“You see, we have already anticipated your needs!” he announced with a grand sweep of his arm.

Sydney looked at the equipment prepared for her and gasped. “I can’t wear that!” The Teller of Tales raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Truly? Oh, I see! We could…,” his voice fell to a conspiratorial whisper, “…get it for you in a size 14 if you think it’ll be a little tight.”

“No! I mean I can’t fight in this! I’m a Paladin of Kansen! I fight in armour! Not a see-though dress split up to the thigh!”

“But it’s the Hero who will do the fighting. As the Female Companion, your role in The Story is to be threatened by The Monster, scream loudly and be rescued.  This costume will be perfect for showing off your very attractive legs as Great Cndulhu…. GLURK!”

Although Paladins of Kansen are forbidden to attack an unarmed non-combatant, they are allowed to grab irritating people by the throat when their honour is called into question.

“Listen! I am a Paladin of Kansen! A Brave and Fearless Warrior of Justice! With Capital Letters! I will be the one fighting The Monster! Wearing respectable Holy Armour! Astyr is the one who will be doing the cowering and screaming! And – I want to make this perfectly clear – I am _a size 12_! Do you understand?”

The Teller of Tales nodded desperately, as well he was able under the circumstances.

“Now, find me a decent weapon that will slay The Monster!”

Sydney was not an unreasonable woman, so she released her grip and gave The Teller of Tales a moment to recover his breath.

“We are a peaceable people,” he gasped, “but we do have some weapons that we thought might be useful for The Hero. We have researched the literature and we feel sure there will be something there that will help you. As the Hero is a powerful sorcerer, perhaps such crude weapons will be of limited use to him, but as his female Companion, I’m sure you will be able to wield them in a suitably decorative fashion.”

“If you use the word ‘decorative’ to describe me again, I will break your nose!” replied Sydney, showing remarkable restrain under the circumstances. “Now take me to your weapons!”

The Teller of Tales led them back out into the corridor and down into the basement, being sure to keep Rana between himself and Sydney. They came to a massive door marked ‘Armoury’. Inside was a large room, packed with every kind of politically-incorrect death-dealing sharp and shiny metal that the ingenuity of humanity has created. Sydney grinned. Although she did not realise it, this made her look much scarier than when she was angry. The Teller of Tales decided that it might be more prudent to wait outside. He mumbled something about having left the oven on and made a hasty retreat, leaving his guests to search through the assembled weaponry.

“Oh, this is a pretty one!” exclaimed Rana, holding up a delicately engraved short sword.

Sydney sniffed dismissively. “Not actually sure it is a sword. More of a letter opener, really.”

“Oh.” Rana put it back on the pile. “Look! There’s a little workbench at the back!” She ran off to play with the tools.

With her expert’s eye, Sydney was disappointed with the materiel on offer. It was all perfectly adequate, but she had been hoping for something more. There was one sword of quite extraordinary quality, but someone for reasons of his own had used it to transfix an anvil to a large block of stone. Try as she might, the Paladin could not pull the sword out, so that was completely useless. Then her eyes fell on a large scabbarded sword. Now that looked to be exactly what she needed. She pulled it half way out of the scabbard. Yes! The most magnificent sword that she had ever seen. Everything she had always dreamed of. She drew the sword – and found that it had been broken in half. The end slipped out and fell with a clang and a clatter on the floor. Sydney glared at it in disgust. What sort of people had a sword like that and then didn’t bother to repair it when it was broken? Obviously, people who read far too many books and believed a Demshul would save them. She left the magnificent sword that was broken on the ground and moved on.

“How about this?” asked Rana.

She brought her a device, a metal disc about a foot in diameter at the end of a short handle. Sydney tested the edge of the blade. It was razor sharp.

“Sydney, this is Disky. He’s just the thing you need to defeat Great Cndulhu.”

“Where did this come from?”

“Oh, this? It's just a little something I whipped up. I thought it would be useful.”

The Paladin looked at the weapon dismissively, but she didn’t want to be rude. She knew Rana was only trying to help. It reminded her of one the strange devices she had seen in Tenke’s kitchen.

“It looks like an oversized pizza cutter.”

She took the weapon and tried a few trial moves, wondering if she could use it to remove Astyr’s hair, or possibly his head.

“You use it like a dagger, only for slashing attacks?” she asked. It didn’t look very effective compared to a respectable straight blade.

“He’s called a Diskos,” explained Rana. “You’re not using him right.” Sydney raised an annoyed eyebrow. “Look you need to turn it on by pushing that button in the grip there." Sydney did as she was told and the disk started to spin; fast. “Now you flick that switch there by your thumb and – Whoa!” Rana ducked for cover as the handle extended so the sharp spinning disk was at the end of a long rod, the length of a two-handed sword. Sydney gave a proprietary grin.

“Much better.” She began a sword pattern with the Diskos, whirling it around her body in a standard series of exercises. The weapon was perfectly balanced and when she swung it, the edge of the blade emitted blue electrical sparks and an ominous humming. She finished her pattern.

“A true Hero’s weapon,” she said happily. “Now I am…” she stopped. She was talking to thin air. “Er… Rana?”

“Over here,” said Rana’s voice. Sydney could just see the top of her spiky hair and a pair of wide frightened eyes peeking out from behind one of weapons racks. “I’m glad you like it, but perhaps it might be better if you were to practise with it outside.”

“Good idea.” She flicked the switches to turn the diskos off and retract the handle. “Where did you get the idea for this anyway?”

“Oh, you know. I read it in a book.”

“Fine. Now, let’s go and find Astyr. We have to stop him leaving before we’ve destroyed Great Cndulhu!”

\--------------------*

They found Astyr alone in the Council Chamber, harvesting the very last of the Heroic Art. His arms glowed with essence.

“Right on time,” he grinned. “The Teller of Tales should be along any minute to take us up to the Temple. Ready to leave for the next myriad world?” Sydney gave him her strongest frown.

 “No. We owe it to these people to save them,”

“Nothing to do with me.”

“We stay and fight. I’m not letting you go.”

“And how will you stop me?!”

“HA! How will _you_ stop _me_ demonspawn?!”

They both came to the same conclusion at the same moment. Astyr’s neural blast hit, not Sydney’s forehead, but her foot, which was travelling very fast towards his temple. The Paladin was spun around and fell to the floor. She could feel the paralysis gradually working its way up through her body. Her legs were already too numb to allow her to stand. Astyr tried to walk past her but she grabbed his leg and hung on. He looked down her impatiently.

“You know it’s the right thing to do. I have to do this. We have to go, now.”

“NO! You have to stay! Don’t go!”

There was a discrete cough. They became aware that the Teller of Tales had entered the room. He clasped his hands in a paroxysm of delight.

“Ah, so romantically heroic! The Female Companion gets down on her knees and begs the Hero not to risk his life in terrible combat with the Monster, but he remains true to his principles despite the overwhelming peril!”

Astyr struck a suitably heroic pose.

“Fear not faithful Sydney! Despite your fears I will remain true to my purpose. Be assured that Rana, you and I will be safe. My actions will keep us all from harm. We will be reunited and we will never be parted!”

“NO!” Sydney reached out one last despairing hand towards him. “You…” and then the paralysis finally overcame her and she collapsed helpless on the floor. Lucky for her, because she was about to call Astyr a very rude name that Paladins of Kansen are not even supposed to know, let alone say aloud. All she could do was scream incoherent abuse, which in her paralysed state was, unfortunately, indistinguishable from heart-broken sobs.

“Make her comfortable and keep her somewhere self out of harm’s way,” Astyr told the Teller of Tales. “It is time I set up my rubric for the final Act of the Story.”

“You go on ahead,” said Rana. “I’ll make sure she’s…”. Astyr was already leaving the room, delighted with the outcome, explaining to the Teller of Tales the complications that clingy Female Companions could cause, so he completely failed to notice the catch in Rana’s voice or the tears in her eyes as she took a small device from her pocket and bent down over the unconscious Paladin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Diskos is from 'The Night Land' by William Hope Hodgson, one of the most original, imaginative and completely unreadable works of fantasy fiction ever written._  
>  _Ms Major mentioned that Sydney's favourite jogging music sounds like a Rachel Platten power ballard, so you may notice a call-out to one of Ms Platten's songs in this chapter._


	4. The Sidekick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The time has come for the final climactic battle between The Hero and The Monster!_

Everyone turned out to see The Hero and his Sidekick defeat the Monster. Of course, the Teller of Tales led the way. Rana and Astyr followed behind. The townsfolk brought up the rear carrying burning torches. It was broad daylight, but there are certain traditions that must be observed in these Stories. Rana let the Teller of Tales stride on ahead, so she could have a quiet word with Astyr without being overheard.  

“Can we try and fight the Monster?” she asked uncertainly. “It must have some weakness.” She remembered his slip of the tongue back in the Rat House. “You know what Great Cndulhu is, don’t you?”

“I think so,” replied Astyr. “It’s probably a Demshul essence-harvester. You see, there are those among us - unlike me - who aren’t keen on hard work. Travelling between the Myriad Worlds harvesting essence is too much effort, so someone decided it would be a good idea to weave a creation to go out there, collect all the Dwells and bring them back home, while they sit on the couch watching daytime DDN.”

“Why do you think it is one of those?”

“First, the Queen’s Consulate would only bother to show up if this was something to do with the Demshul. Second, I remembered that the full name of these things was ‘Cognitive Navigating Dwellar Utilising, Locating and Harvesting Unit’.” It took Rana a couple of seconds to understand.

“Ah. Oh dear. Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“I didn’t want Sydney to hear. She already has this delusion that us Demshel are unprincipled evil demons who go around destroying worlds without any thought for the consequences. Best if her unreasonable prejudices aren’t reinforced.”

“But if they are something that the Demshul created, why were they such a problem?”

 “The problem was that the things were a bit too -er – enthusiastic. It was difficult to make them stop and to give the Dwells back. You see, instead of storing essence as Dwells, they use them to weave more body parts, more or less at random, so they get bigger and bigger, collecting more and more essence. They keep going until they consume an entire myriad world. That’s why it could steal my Dwells. It can pull harder than me. They’ve got a mechanism to stop anyone nearby using Dwells too. It’s why I couldn’t harvest it and why I couldn’t use my own Dwells when I was close to it.”

“Isn’t that a bit of a design flaw?”

“It’s a security feature. It stops some greedy Demshul coming along and stealing all the Dwells the Harvester has collected before it returns to its rightful owner. Some people have no morals.”

“So how do we deal with it?”

“Oh, that’s easy! We keep as far away from it as we can and get to the next of the myriad worlds on the list as soon as possible. I have no idea how to stop it.”

“Oh. So what is this building that The Monster was imprisoned in? And why is it full of sky?”

“I expect that is some kind of containment that the Consulate constructed. It’s probably cobbled together from a myriad world or two it has already destroyed.”

“Could we ask them to come and fix it?”

“No point. By the time they’ve completed all the paperwork, this world will have been eaten anyway.” 

“But couldn’t we try to save these people? Could you put that glowy barrier back?”

“I’ve no idea how to do that. I didn’t bother recording all the complicated weave. I didn’t think I’d be needing it again.”

“But if Cndulhu is an essence harvester, why didn’t it just harvest Sydney when she was fighting it? Or why didn’t it harvest us when we first met it? You told me living creatures have the greatest essence to weight ratio of anything and The Story said that it always goes for the strongest concentrations.”

“That would be completely immoral. I know Sydney thinks we’re all heartless evil demons, but you may have noticed that I don’t go around harvesting people, no matter how annoying or valuable they might be. That’s why the Harvester has a safety restraint; it can’t harvest sentient creatures.”

“Oh Good! That means Sydney… er… that we’ll all be safe then. It isn’t allowed to hurt us.”

“Well… yes and no. People always find a way round restrictive regulations. It can’t harvest us for our essence directly, but it can harvest our dead bodies. That’s why it grows all those mouths and tentacles and claws and spiky bits. Once it’s killed us in the old-fashioned way, it can collect up the left-overs to take home.”

“That’s… actually that’s rather clever. Also, really horrible.”

They were getting close to the top of the hill and the Great Temple. Rana knew that she had to decide. She could let Astyr take them away to the next myriad world, and the people she loved would be safe. But she would always know that she had betrayed the people of Nusquam and left them to die. And, when they met Sydney again in the next myriad world, would the Paladin want to be her friend anymore? But if she were to delay Astyr long enough for Sydney to confront Great Cndulhu, would it even make any difference? Sydney would die, and she’d never see her again, and the people of Nusquam would still die, and perhaps Astyr too. Considering the risk / benefits, the logical choice was obviously for the three of them to leave as soon as possible. But Rana knew she couldn’t break a promise, or live with the knowledge that the people of Nusquam had died believing that she had betrayed them. She took a deep breath.

 “Oh, but you know, I was thinking. If this Temple has all sorts of essence weave to keep Great Cndulhu a prisoner, then it would be a shame to leave all those Dwells behind. Couldn’t we stay just a little longer to harvest some of it?”

“Yeah! What a good idea! No, wait. I can’t use essence inside the building.”

“But you can! Remember when we went back in there, you lifted Sydney out of the lake. I don’t think it’s the being inside that matters. It’s only when you are close to Great Cndulhu that you can’t use your harvesting.”

“Hm, good thinking. So, we go in and see what we can harvest. Hm. But what happens if Cndulhu shows up? I’ll be stuck and I won’t be able to leave this world.”

“Um... we could run away again. It can’t move all that fast, remember. Then, once you are out of range, you can bring up the rubric and we can all leave.

“I hate to say it, but that sounds like a plan. Let’s do it! We can work out how to find Sydney later, when we arrive at the next Myriad World on my list.”

“Ah, about Sydney. Couldn’t you have done some more of that Demshul mind manipulation to convince her to come with us?”

“Mind manipulation? Oh, you mean that dream Sydney had? That was nothing to do with me. Didn’t Ten-ten tell you I didn’t inherit any of that stuff from Mother?”

“But…”

“The dream? She did get a good lung full of that monster slime; that might have caused it. Or it could just have been her indoctrinated guilt complex giving her a perfectly normal nightmare. Maybe she just ate too much cheese before bedtime. It could even really have been the Kanites. It sounds like their style. Ask Ten-Ten next time you see him. He knows more about that psychobabble stuff than me.”

“But… but why did you tell her it was you?”

“Because she was so upset and wobbly about her duty and being a paladin and all that rubbish. Now she thinks it’s only me and she’s back to her normal fanatical self-righteous anger. A few words in the right place and there you go! Problem solved! And all it cost was a couple of teeth.”

“Oh Astyr! That was so…”

“…stupid. Yeah, I know.”

They reached the top of the hill. The Teller of Tales was waiting for them at the portico of the Great Temple.

“Best if you all don’t get too close,” Astyr told him. “Wouldn’t want any collateral damage once I begin to unleash my arcane power. You should all be safe enough if you wait at the bottom of the steps.” He did not want any of the dwellers to see what he was actually up to. The Teller of Tales gathered the crowd at a safe distance and they gave The Hero and his Sidekick a final cheer as they walked up to the entrance of the Temple.

“Would you do the honours please?” Astyr asked. Rana had a quiet word with the door mechanism. It wasn’t so reluctant to open this time; it had decided that it liked her. Astyr stepped across the threshold, taking a wide step over the slot that the brass door fitted into. He rewove a piece of jewellery from his arm, then unwove it back into a streamer of essence.

“Everything is still working, so Cndulhu can’t be too close yet. Let’s go in and see how much essence we can get.”

“Should I close the door behind us?” asked Rana.

“No. The marks can’t see inside from where they are, so they won’t know what we are doing. We need to leave an escape route in case the Big Cheese does turn up and we have to make a quick exit.”

“Oh right.”

Cautiously, the two of them walked to the shore of that impossible cold lake beneath the black sky full of unwinking random stars. The moon still hung in the same position in the sky as their first visit on the previous evening. Rana wished she had remembered to ask for a pair of mittens; and maybe a scarf. She was aware of a movement behind her. Risking a glance, she saw a stealthy figure by the right-hand pillar of the portico, slipping through the gateway behind them.

“I think the best essence will probably be up there,” she said, gesturing upwards to the left. “I’ve been talking to Tenke about how essence weave works.” Distracted, Astyr held out his hand, palm outward, concentrating on the weave of thick impenetrable mist where Rana was pointing.

“Hey, well spotted. Yes, the loom is definitely in there.”

“Loom?”

“Yes, you know, the bits of the weave that create the fabric and direct how everything works.”

“You mean like a control system?”

“I guess so. Now, where to start?”

Astyr’s palm glowed and streamers of essence flowed from the mist onto his body; his arms were already full. This was turning into a lucrative trip. The mist above the doorway cleared to reveal a balcony, hanging impossibly in mid-air high above the ground. He expended a couple of Dwells to lift himself and Rana up to the platform. Now they were closer, they could see that the sky was full of runes, barely visible as an outline of black against the total darkness of heavens – the weave defining the prison of Great Cndulhu. Astyr began to gather. Harvesting was so much easier when the essence you were unweaving didn’t need to go back together again.

\-----------*

Sure that Astyr was safely distracted by greed, Sydney slipped through the entrance and advanced cautiously to the edge of the lake. She didn’t want to go into the water – she knew she’d be at a disadvantage in that energy-sapping numbing cold, not to mention the inconvenience of not being able to breath. On the other hand, she knew she didn’t have time to waste. The Evil Demshul might grow bored at any moment and whisk her away, abandoning the innocent to a horrible death. Perhaps, she should turn back and kill the Demon right now with her lovely new Diskos, but that would upset Rana and leave them both stranded here, far from the paradise of the Kanite worlds, even if the cream cakes were superb.

Just as she was considering wading into the water to find the Monster, the tide went out, very suddenly, as though someone had pulled out the plug from the bath. The water raced away from her, leaving a sandy beach, sloping gently downwards. Sydney advanced cautiously. Mortal combat is nothing to a Paladin of Kansen of course, but she did so hope she wouldn’t mess this up. People were relying on her. She took a moment to breathe a prayer to Madir.

_“Let the fiery cloudy pillar lead me all my journey through.”_

Above her, the stars were starting to twinkle and the sky began to lose its interstellar blackness. The prison of Great Cndulhu was beginning to unravel as the essence of the warp and weave was stolen away, piece by piece. After about 200 yards, the beach suddenly reached a precipice – the edge of the Pit where lived Great Cndulhu. And all along the edge of the Pit, things were oozing up from the depths – tentacles, claws, eyes, teeth, all embedded in that dead-white unwholesome rubbery skin, as the vast monster heaved itself towards the real world, once again able to sense the call of the essence it had been created to collect – starting with the _hors d'oeuvres_ waiting for it on the edge of the Pit. Sydney activated the Diskos and attacked.

\------------------*

Astyr was hard at work, ripping out the weave of the prison. The sky in front of him was starting to become transparent, like a threadbare tablecloth, and through the gaps in the weave he had glimpses of the masonry of the building in the real world.

“You were right,” he told Rana, “this is the best motherlode of essence we’ve had in ten worlds. Good work. And to think, if you hadn’t said, I’d have missed it.”

“Oh. Good.” Astyr looked away from the riches before him long enough to realise that all was not well with Rana. She was walking up and down the balcony, looking up at the lightening sky, almost as though she were listening, but every now and then she glanced behind her, across the expanse of retreating water.

“What’s the matter? Are you scared of the Monster? Don’t worry! If it shows up I can have us out of here in the flutter of a wing.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” He came over to her, put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

“No. No you’re not. You’re tense. You’re frightened. You look ready to burst into tears. Tell me what’s wrong. You know I’ll always protect you.”

“It’s just… it’s Sydney.”

“Sydney! Don’t worry about her. I only gave her a little neural paralysis to get her out of the way. She’s safe over in the Rat House. She’ll still be angry because of all the teasing about being the Female Companion, but once she’s got it out of her system by kicking me around the room a few times, I’m sure she’ll see the funny side. We’ll soon be finished here and she’ll come with us to the next one of the myriad worlds on my list.”

“But she isn’t. You see, I used a Perkins Metallic Tractor to draw off your negative neural energy. She’s up on her feet again and she’s gone to fight the monster!”

“What! You… That stupid paladin! She’ll die!”

“I KNOW!” wailed Rana. For the first time, Astyr turned to look across the landscape that had imprisoned Great Cndulhu. Out across the beach where the lake had once been he saw a blue flash of electricity and a small figure, standing firm against a vast mountain of unnatural protoplasm that rose from the depths.

\-----------------*

Sydney swung the Diskos with practised ease, slicing through the tentacles and arms and teeth that surged towards her. The great mass of The Monster moved slowly without the water to support it, giving Sydney ample to time to counter its attacks, but as she dismembered the creature, still more and more of it oozed up from the depths. And it was rising along the entire length of the cliff. Although she was keeping it at bay where she stood, grotesque creatures, all attached to their parent, began to outflank her to left and right, getting behind her, cutting off her escape. Even after five minutes of battle she could feel the Diskos getting heavier, and she knew that her attacks were beginning to slow. And now, the myriad Monsters that made Great Cndulhu were closing in from all sides. She couldn’t block all the attacks. Tentacles whipped at her body, mouths on impossible stalks darted in to bite her. Sydney knew it would only be a matter of time, but Death means nothing to a Paladin of Kansen. At least she would die on her feet, fighting to protect the innocent, for the glory of Madir. She breathed a silent prayer.

“ _I am weak, but though art mighty. Hold me with thy powerful hand_.”

\--------------------*

Astyr knew what he had to do. He called to Rana:

“We’re too far away for me to pull her out with a whirlwind. We’re leaving, now!” He sat down and began to call up the rubric that would take them away to safety – reaching out to include Rana and Sydney – and found that he could not reach the Paladin. The streamers of essence that tried to form around her body where instantly snatched away by the Harvester. Worse, he could feel the tug of the unweaving that hungered for all the Dwells he had already collected. Now it knew he was there and it knew he had essence. Once it had finished with annoying distractions, it would be coming for him.

There was only one way the fight below him would end; Sydney was as good as dead. The logical thing would be to leave now, take what essence he had and save himself and Rana. After all, Sydney was only a Paladin of Kansen, a self-righteous fanatic indoctrinated to kill him, and eradicate his entire race and culture. He readjusted his rubric to include only Rana, began the incantation – and found that he couldn’t do it; he couldn’t bring himself to abandon Sydney. He brought the essence of the woven circle back to himself and stood up. In despair, he walked over to the railing to watch the Paladin die.

“Gosh thanks, that’s really, really useful,” said Rana.

“Hey, there’s no reason to be sarcastic,” replied Astyr despondently, and then realised that his Sidekick was not talking to him, but a space in the sky. A group of stars, that somehow seemed closer than all the rest, were twinkling. No, not twinkling the way stars were supposed to. Pulsing together, as though there was some set pattern behind them.

Rana turned to him, suddenly full of urgency.

“Astyr, we can still save Sydney! All we have to do is activate the inversion matrix of the containment facility. Then, the dispersion elements can extract the essence from Cndulhu, split them into two collimated streams, reverse the phase of the secondary flow and then recombine the streams so they cancel out.”

“What? How do you know all that?”

“Simple. Loomy told me of course!”

“Who?”

“Loomy. The machine woven by the Queen’s Consulate to contain Great Cndulhu!”

“Ah! Right! And how do I… do whatever it is that you just said.”

“Oh, Loomy will take care of all that. We’ve been having a very informative chat. All you need to do is provide some Dwellars to initiate the sub-liminal telluric wave compensators.”

“How many Dwells exactly?” Astyr had a sudden sinking feeling.

“Well, um, all of them actually. As many as you can spare.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“You see, when the Queen’s Consulate came to contain Great Cndulhu they didn’t have enough essence to do the job properly. Something to do with cutbacks and austerity programmes. Anyway, that’s why they had the townsfolk making all those nice pieces of jewellery. They knew that the prison wouldn’t hold for ever, but that when it did fail they’d be plenty of essence waiting for them to finish the job. Making something intricate with a lot of skill was the best way for the people here to make concentrated essence, what with them not having much in the way of advanced technology or magic.”

“So why haven’t the Queen’s Consulate been back before now to finish the job?”

“Ah well, the prison was expected to last at least another hundred years. I think us turning up and removing the barrier has unleashed Cndulhu a bit early.”

“They could at least have put up a ‘Do Not Disturb’ notice!”

“But you never take any notice of official signs!”

“That’s not the point!”

Far away they heard a cry of pain. The tiny figure, almost engulfed by unwholesome protoplasm, sank to its knees. Astyr sighed.

“Right then, where do I have to put this essence?”

\-----------------*

Sydney was on her knees, but she wasn’t beaten yet. Multiple wounds are nothing to a Paladin of Kansen. The blows were coming so fast now that she no longer noticed them. Something with teeth fastened on to her leg. Her greave deflected most of the damage. Sydney twirled the Diskos and whatever it was abruptly let go. The weapon, which had seemed as light as a stick of bamboo when she had begun to fight, now felt as heavy as a steel girder. She swung it again to slice through a tentacle reaching for her. Her arms screamed in agony. Four more of the mouths went for her, like a pack of terriers after rats. Sydney got two of them, but the other two fastened to her arms. They pushed her onto her back and the Diskos slipped from her grasp. The vast mass of Great Cndulhu closed in around her. She could see spiky tentacles and teeth and claws and cold, inhuman eyes. She wondered which of them would get her first. She asked for Madir’s blessing to accept her into Heaven:

_“Open thou thy crystal fountain whence the healing stream doth flow”_

Suddenly, the entire monstrosity froze. Sydney lay, gasping for breath, waiting for the end. The monster began to move, not towards her, but away from her, upwards. The mouths and spikes and claws waived pointlessly, as though they had forgotten she was there. Suddenly she knew that her prayers had been answered. Great Madir had seen the heroic efforts of his lost child and was fighting beside her. She snatched up the Diskos, reactivated the spinning disk and renewed her attack.

\----------------*

Astyr and Rana watched the show from their balcony. The mass of Great Cndulhu was unravelling into ribbons of essence that were streaming upwards towards the impossibly large moon with its screaming face. Rana was grinning with relief. Astyr was less happy. Of his magnificent collection of Dwells, less than a forearm’s worth remained, and he knew he would need most of those to make the Jump to the next of the myriad worlds. The display only added insult to injury.

“But all that essence is going to waste!” he complained. “They could at least collect it up. Now it’s just being dissipated and cancelling itself out.”

“Loomy says that’s the only way to deactivate Cndulhu,” replied Rana. “If the essence was kept intact then it would be able to suck it all back again.”

“Couldn’t I keep even a little bit?” A whining note had entered his voice.

“No, all yours was used up to start the system up. Now it’s up and running, it can use the essence from the Monster to keep extracting even more from it. Clever when you think about it.”

“Marvellous.”

“Never mind. At least Sydney and all the people of Nusquam will be safe, and that’s the most important thing isn’t it?”

“Can I get back to you on that?”

Rana looked across to the mass of convulsing protoplasm.

“All we have to do now is wait until all the harvested essence dissipates and then Cndulhu will be shut down. Once all the essence is gone, we’ll be inside a perfectly normal building and we can just walk away. The whole process will be completely safe and automatic – unless the central core unit of Cndulhu is damaged of course. Nothing can go wrong.” She clapped her hands to her mouth. “Oh! I think perhaps I shouldn’t have said that!”

\------------------*

Sydney wielded the Diskos, wreaking terrible havoc on the body of Great Cndulhu, weak from her injuries, but strengthened by the knowledge that she was no longer under attack and that her god was on her side. The insane jumble of mouths and eyes, the ichor that sprayed from every wound, even the ghastly giblets within the creature exposed by her mighty blows, had ceased to bother her.

In front of her rose something else. It seemed odd to Sydney at first, but then she realised that this because it was normal – at least relatively normal compared to the insanity that surrounded her. It resembled a large beetle made of some ceramic, perhaps the size of a pony, but flickering ribbons of essence fluttered around it, glittering with the wild transmutations of the Demshul, and all the abominable body of the Monster flowed from it. Sydney knew what she had to do. Summoning her reserves of strength, she leapt into the air, and brought the Diskos down on the Heart of Great Cndulhu with all her remaining might. The creature was cleaved in two. Sydney was engulfed in a blinding cascade of light and heat and sound.

\----------------*

From the balcony, Rana saw the explosion that tore through the body of Great Cndulhu, destroying the Harvester for ever. Above her, the moon disintegrated, like an enormous firework. The ground shuddered at the force of the blast. The air was full of a rending sound, like enormous rocks grinding against each other. Something large and black fell from the sky and dropped between her and Astyr, breaking the balcony on which they were standing in half. With a shriek she plummeted towards the ground, her arms and legs helplessly flailing. Just before she hit the sand she was suddenly snatched upwards by a swirl of air. With a flourish, Astyr deposited them both safely on the ground.

“That was…agh!” He jumped aside just in time to dodge another falling object. He looked at the jagged lump of darkness half embedded in the sand.

“Wow!” he said, “It’s full of stars!”

“Astyr!” screamed Rana. “The sky is falling down!”

“Wha…?”

“CLEAR THE AREA!” Rana was already running for the sunlit doorway to safety and sanity.

 ---------------*

Sydney painfully picked herself up, and spat something soft, disgusting and chewy out of her mouth. At least the wet sand was soft to land on, even if she had landed face down. Large lumps of the splattered remains of Great Cndulhu had helped cushion her fall too and the slime had extinguished the fireball before she suffered any serious burns. Instinctively she looked around for her weapon. All that remained of the Diskos was a two-foot long length of slightly smoking hollow metal pipe. Something heavy hit the ground nearby. Great lumps of the starry night sky were falling all around her, with a noise like an avalanche. Across the expanse of sand a bright sunlit doorway showed the way to safety. She started to run, looking upwards to dodge the great pieces of plummeting darkness. It was just like third year training, only then the falling rocks had been made of _papier mache_ , and she hadn’t been exhausted and covered in cuts and bruises from two epic battles with an eldritch abomination before the lesson had started.

The malicious sand sucked at her tired feet. Her legs burned, made worse by the sudden changes of direction to dodge the falling sky. The doorway was getting closer, but it seemed to be getting smaller. Was it her eyes playing tricks? Then she realised that the great brass door that sealed the entrance was descending. She was going to be trapped inside! It was a race between the door and the Paladin, in slow motion. She could tell that she wasn’t going to make it. She pushed her screaming, exhausted legs to one final effort. The cacophony of the collapsing reality confused her senses. She could swear she could hear her old fitness instructor shouting in her ear above the tumult; ‘Keep going Treuno! It’s only pain!’ Perhaps so, but this pain hurt. It hurt a lot.

She was almost at the threshold. The opening was almost closed. Sydney became so intent on the great door descending that she almost failed to spot a piece of descending sky. She leapt forward just in time and went sprawling in the sand. It was only a few yards to safety. She summoned her last reserves of strength to crawl forwards. The door loomed over her as she dived underneath and fell into the trench into which the great sheet of brass fitted. She hit the bottom hard and her legs were suddenly seized by cramp. Her last energy expended, she collapsed, too weak to climb up the four feet of wall on the far side to safety. The gap of sunlight was closing fast. Her hand scrabbled on the wall, but she couldn’t pull herself up. She fell onto her back, looking upwards at the descending spiky teeth along the bottom of the door. This was probably going to hurt a lot, but pain was nothing to a Paladin of Kansen – and it wouldn’t be lasting very long. At least she had defeated the Monster and Saved the World. Her one regret was that she would not be there to protect Rana from Astyr. She closed her eyes and whispered the final prayer of the Paladins of Kensen.

_Bid my anxious fears subside. Bear me through the swelling current._

Getting squashed was taking a long time. Maybe she had been crushed so fast she hadn’t even noticed and she had already been taken into the bosom of Madir. It still hurt too much for the bosom of Madir. She didn’t want to think about what the alternative might be. Cautiously, she opened one eye. She had a fine view of the bottom of the brass door. One of the teeth was lined up perfectly to crush her skull. Fortunately, it had stopped moving.

“Come on lazybones, you can’t lay around there all day,” called a familiar, extremely irritating voice. Astyr reached down through the narrow gap beneath the door, grabbed her legs and dragged her out of the trench into the sunshine beneath the portico. Rana was standing by the door with her usual broad happy grin on her face. She patted the sheet of brass as though it were a very large domestic animal.

“Thank you so much for not squashing my friend,” she told it. “It’s all right, you can finish closing now. There was a creak of ancient mechanism and the door lowered into its socket with a terrifying clunk. Fear means nothing to a Paladin of Kansen, but even so, Sydney felt a twinge in her stomach at the thought of her bones splintering beneath that awful weight.

Rana knelt beside her and gave her a hug, remembering not to squeeze too tightly this time. “Oh Sydney, I’m so glad you’re still alive!”

“All thanks to you. And if you hadn’t persuaded the door to pause, then I’d have been…” she shivered at the thought. 

Now the Monster had been defeated the townsfolk had come all the way up to the gate of the Temple to cheer the Hero. The Teller of Tales shook his hand and offered heartfelt congratulations. Astyr took the opportunity to address the crowd.

“Fear not good people! Once again, I have defeated the Evil Monster and Saved the World, with the help of my faithful Sidekick, the Mistress of Machinery. Not only that, once again I have Rescued the Girl!” The crowd roared their approval.

“No! You evil lying demon!” shouted Sydney. At least, she tried to shout it. She was so weak that all she managed was a whisper. She became aware that she was lying at Astyr’s feet in a particularly girly fashion, the Helpless and Adoring Female Companion, not at all the image a Paladin of Kansen wants to project. Astyr summoned a whirlwind to lift him to the top of the portico so the crowd could see and hear him better.

“And now good people, I and my faithful companions must leave you. I must travel on in my constant quest across the myriad worlds. But know that should the need arise again, my people, the Demshul, will be here to protect you and save you from the Monsters that stalk the night!” He sat down cross-legged on the ledge and drew up the rubric for his next destination.

The crowd roared their approval. “Hooray! Hurrah for the Hero Astyr! Hooray for the Demshul.”

“What? No!” squeaked Sydney in helpless rage. “The Demshul are evil! They are the destroyers of worlds!” She turned to Rana. “I don’t believe this. Everyone thinks that he is the hero, when all he’s done is rob them!”

“He did... He’s not entirely bad you know.”

“Ha! Name me one thing he’s ever done to help someone other than himself!”

“Well…”

“And now all these people think I’m some useless little girl who screams every time she sees a monster. What must they think of the Order of Kansen?”

“But you saved them.”

“They don’t know that.”

“I know. And Madir knows. And they and their world of Nusquam are safe. That’s the important thing. Isn’t it?”

Sydney opened her mouth to reply, but Rana had vanished. The uncomfortable tendrils of Astyr’s Jump Rubric closed around her and Sydney Treuno fell into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the [full version of Sydney's Hymn](https://youtu.be/U1fLiDjLf5c)

**Author's Note:**

> Sydney, Astyr and Rana are the creations of Ms Christina Major.


End file.
